


Tell No Tales

by NamelesslyNightlock



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Battle, Blood, Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, Fear, Feels, Forbidden Love, Hopeful Ending, Loyalty, M/M, Nautical Language, Pining, Pirate Loki (Marvel), Pirates, Protective Loki (Marvel), Protective Tony Stark, Running Away, Sailor Tony Stark, Secret Relationship, Suspense, Swordfighting, Teamwork, The Royal Navy, Violence, opposite sides
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22334941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/pseuds/NamelesslyNightlock
Summary: Whilst preparing for battle against the most feared pirate crew in the world, Tony cowardly andtreasonouslyhopes that the pirates will escape– but it’s not himself that he’s scared for.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 29
Kudos: 218





	Tell No Tales

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rabentochter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabentochter/gifts).



> This was inspired by a drawing by **Rabentochter** , which I was not quick enough in offering to write something for, and someone else snapped it up. But she graciously allowed me to write something regardless, and I simply changed the AU (to something that I know more about anyway xD ) But yes, we can thank Sesil for the inspiration (again). I hope you enjoy it!

Tony’s heart was beating hard enough that it was making him feel sick.

He could see the outline of a familiar ship on the horizon, steadily growing larger as their powerful naval vessel caught the wind and cut through the waves in swift pursuit. Tony didn’t need to see the name on the transom to know that the ship they were chasing was the _Tanngrisnir_ , the scourge of the seas. The captain’s colours were raised high on the main mast, a gold skeleton embossed on a cloth of the darkest black, the choice of colour itself blatantly showing off the success of the most feared pirate crew in the world.

Many of the soldiers and crew around Tony were shifting in their boots, even the most battle-hardened sailors nervous about going up against the ship which was known for sinking any merchant vessel that refused to surrender, leaving not a single survivor.

Tony knew that they were all being ridiculous, of course. Because yes, the _Tanngrisnir_ and her dreaded captain did terrorise merchant vessels with impunity, but– the HMS _Assemble_ was _not_ a merchant vessel. She was a first-rate warship, with 96 guns including two long nines at the bow, and every person aboard had been hard trained in His Majesty’s Royal Navy. They would _not_ be losing a fight to a crew of criminals and deserters, not when their reputation was on the line– for they had only been sent to deal with this mess because all of the privateers who had been sent after the _Tanngrisnir_ had already failed. No, they were going to claim victory in this battle, of that there was little doubt.

But… fear is a funny thing. It gets into your bones, it shivers at your skin and freezes your heart until it begins to defy all logic or reason.

Tony’s heart, however, was far from frozen. It really was pounding against the inside of his ribs, aching with the kind of fierceness that he knew no amount of deep breaths or drams of rum would be able to calm.

And if he were being honest?

Tony was rather sure he was more scared than any other member of the crew—

Because it wasn’t his death that he feared. Oh no, there was a fate far worse than death awaiting him aboard the _Tanngrisnir._

As the ship’s boatswain, he wasn’t required on deck for the assault– at least, not until there was something that needed an urgent repair. But he was more than a fair fighter, and Captain Rogers was not about to order Tony to go below when such a move would only make the rest of crew more jittery.

They needed every ounce of fortitude they had in this fight– because, pirates? They didn’t only fight with steel and lead. Oh no, the greatest weapon in a pirate’s arsenal _was_ fear. They’d learned to manipulate it, to mould it into a devastating tool—

And Tony hoped that the captain had one of his legendary speeches up his sleeve, because they were all going to need it.

_Soon._

The wind was behind them, which meant that the full sails of the _Assemble_ were more than enough to carry them toward their prey. And the closer they grew, the more of the _Tanngrisnir’s_ wind they stole– which meant that the gap began to shrink all the faster.

And as they closed in—

“Run out the long nines!” Rogers ordered. “At the ready, on my mark!”

The order echoed for’ard as it was shouted down the ship, sailors and gunners running over the deck in a coordinated mess of feet and shouts. No one got in anyone else’s way, no one tripped over any of the lines that were perfectly coiled at the ready.

They might be nervous, they might be afraid– but they were sailors in the Royal Navy, and _this_ was what they did best.

The deck came alive and fear began to be overcome by anticipation, the grog in the flasks Tony could see raised every now and then beginning to do its job—

And when the captain gave the order and the sound of the first guns rang out, the sharp crack reverberated over the men in wave of determination.

The heavy cannonball did not hit the stern of their prey– it landed amongst the waves, the water shooting up into the air and then cascading back down with the force of it.

A warning shot. An offer of surrender—

The same offer that any pirate ship gave a merchant vessel—

An offer that they all knew would not be accepted.

The _Tanngrisnir_ was a relatively new threat, and had seemed to come out of nowhere– usually, it would take a while for a pirate vessel to build a reputation. But Captain Odinson and his nightmare crew had made their debut with an attack on a _port_ , sacking the whole town and leaving it in ruins. They’d followed with brutal assaults on merchants _and_ smaller warships, and they were the only pirates steeled enough to be _willing_ to take on a naval ship without provocation. The _Assemble_ had been tracking her for months, following her through ports both under English rule and otherwise, even daring to dock in those lawless places that most other naval ships would not dare to tread.

Oftentimes, the _Assemble_ would only _just_ miss her, would think that the _Tanngrisnir_ was in their grasp only for her to slip through their fingers, as if they had been tipped off or– as if the crew of the _Assemble_ had been blind to a clue.

Sometimes, the thought left a strange taste of iron in Tony’s mouth—

He was pulled from his mind by the sound of the crew’s roar– apparently, in his musings he had missed the captain’s speech. Not that it mattered, as the crew were riled up, and– Tony doubted there was anything the captain could have said to lift Tony’s spirits. Not with what was about to happen– not now that the _Assemble_ finally had the _Tanngrisnir_ in her sights.

Tony flinched as the nines fired again—

And this time, there was an explosion of splinters from the transom of the ship they were chasing, the heavy shot going straight through the wood with an ear-splitting crash that echoed across the waves.

The _Tanngrisnir_ was not about to simply take that lying down, however—

Tony’s hands tightened into fists at his sides, and his voice felt a little hoarse as he spoke. “Is she turning?”

“Looks like it.” The captain was standing just in front of Tony on the poop, one hand on the hilt of his cutlass.

They didn’t need to wait for an explanation, as Mr Barton took that moment to call down from the nest— “She’s headed for the shallows!”

Captain Rogers immediately looked to his First Lieutenant, who was standing with his hands on the wheel. “Follow them, Mr Romanoff. But do _not_ allow them to broadside.”

That was going to be near impossible– the _Tanngrisnir_ was already ahead in her turn, and as a smaller ship she would be able to execute a gybe far quicker than the _Assemble_ ever could. But Romanoff’s expression was tight, and he nodded with the determination of someone who would die trying.

(And, of course. Everyone, _knew_ that Mr Romanoff was a woman. It was the worst kept secret on the ship, but they knew she had joined the Navy because she was desperate for the coin– and no one was brave enough to even _think_ about going near her, knowing they’d sooner lose their balls than have an enjoyable night. And when she could steer the ship with more skill than anyone else on the crew, then who were they to complain or rat her out?)

Of course, if the ships were to come side by side then the _Tanngrisnir_ would not have a chance– but the captain was worried that the pirates would manage to line themselves up with the _Assemble’s_ _bow_ , pitting their likely 50 guns against only the two long nines. If that happened, then the odds would certainly become more balanced—

Thankfully, though, Mr Barton was right. It certainly seemed like the _Tanngrisnir_ was _running_.

The island off the starboard bow was one of the West Indies. Tony wasn’t sure which one– it wasn’t his job to know. But he _was_ sure that the captain would.

But for now, all that mattered was that the _Tanngrisnir_ was headed right for it, and that she was shallower on the draft. That might allow her to gain ground as she swept around this island, so that she would be able to hide on the other side.

And perhaps Tony was a coward, but… he _hoped_ that the _Tanngrisnir_ would be able to get away.

Unfortunately, though, the wind was still on their side. The crew gybed the ship with practiced ease and then they were off, the sails filling once more as they shot in their new direction after the smaller vessel, the nines still cutting holes through the stern. Every hit made it feel like those wooden splinters were cutting through Tony’s heart, and his jaw clenched hard enough that his whole head was starting to ache—

“Mr Barton reports that the pirates’ first mate had the helm, but it looks like the captain is taking over– and they’re gearing for a fight, Sir.” Mr Maximoff appeared out of puff as he called his message up from the bottom of the stairs, his near-white hair sticking to his forehead– and his words caused Tony’s breath to catch in his throat with a further spike of fear.

Rogers’ grip on his cutlass tightened. “Tell the ship’s surgeon he’d best be ready,” he replied.

“Yes, Captain,” Maximoff replied– and then he was gone again—

“You think they’re going to turn back?” Romanoff asked.

“If there’s one thing we know,” Rogers muttered, “It’s that Odinson is more than willing to take a risk and fight against the odds.”

Of course he was– Tony had been _told_ that Captain Odinson had a temper. If the first mate had remained on the helm, then there might have been a _chance_ of the pirates getting away—

But Rogers was right—

“Sir, the ship—”

“She’s turning, _fast—”_

“Prepare for a broadside!”

Tony’s eyes widened as he realised that the _Tanngrisnir_ was doing something _rash_ , something Tony had only ever _heard_ of being used in a combat situation—

The bow of the _Tanngrisnir_ was cutting low, as if it were being dragged through the water–they backed their headsails to add to the force of the turn, and the ship spun at an impossible speed—

And as the ship pulled around, every cannon along the _Tanngrisnir’s_ port side exploded with fire.

Tony threw himself down, ducking below the railing and covering his head as the assault slammed into the port bow of the ship, rocking the _Assemble_ like a cork in a whirlwind. Luckily for him the poop was high enough to avoid the shot, but those on the lower decks were not half so lucky, their screams filling the air and raising the hair on the back of Tony’s neck.

Romanoff’s expression was twisted into a snarl—

“Heave to!”

—and she quickly followed the captain’s orders, spinning the helm to turn the ship. The headsails backed and the ship slowed to a halt—

And the two vessels were lined up together, bow to stern with their port sides aligned as Romanoff just _barely_ avoided ramming into the _Tanngrisnir,_ something that could have resulted in the wreck of both vessels.

Tony hurried to his feet, and without bothering to inform the captain – Rogers would know he was doing his duty after all – he hurried down onto the main deck.

He could hear the clamour from below, the cries and moans of injured men mixed with orders for the gunners to hurry on the reload. The deck was a frenzy as the men hastened into position, the sailors tying off their lines, rushing to reach for their weapons—

And the soldiers on board were at the ready, their red coats shining in the sea of blue and grey, muskets primed and aimed over the side, waiting—

“ _Fire!”_

And a new horror of sound split through the air, bullets screeching, the scent of gunpowder mingling with the already sickening smell of blood, already overpowering the salt of the sea. As the soldiers reloaded and fired, fired, _fired_ and the cannons blasted loud, Tony could hear cries coming from across the water—

He forced himself not to listen, forced himself to focus on what was happening around him rather than trying to _listen_ for a single, familiar voice—

He made it to the for’ard end of the ship, and took a closer look at the chunk that had been taken out of the foremast.

“They must have aimed the guns high,” Peter – Tony’s second pair of hands – said, his voice almost shaking but his expression set firm. “They’re lower than us, they must have– but it looks like it might hold, don’t you think Mr Stark?”

Tony went to reply—

But then he grabbed Peter’s shoulder instead, forcing him down to the deck as the _Tanngrisnir_ fired her guns again—

“Get below, Mr Parker,” Tony said. “Lock yourself somewhere safe, perhaps– the captain’s quarters, above the waterline—”

“We’re going to win, though,” Parker said, his brown eyes wide. “We’re going to _win—”_

Tony gripped his shoulder for a moment before letting him go and shoving him toward the nearest hatch. “Get _below—”_

Because the guns were still firing, the wood of the ship still shattering—

But this broadside meant that the _Assemble_ had the advantage, for they had nearly double the number of guns– and the only way that the pirates would have even a chance at winning this day was if they—

“They’re boarding us!”

Tony swore and drew his cutlass, shoving Peter hard toward the hatch once more—

And he couldn’t even turn to see if Peter was going, because—

The pirates were swinging over the water, their grappling hooks having tangled in the rigging up above. Tony met one with a swing of his blade, gutting him before his feet even touched the deck. Tony’s boots slid in the resultant mess but he raised his cutlass, and he shouted as he faced the oncoming storm—

Because he didn’t have a choice. No matter where his heart lay—

This was a battle of violence and blood, and there was nothing he could do but to allow it to consume him. A fight on the ocean is like nothing else, like nothing that could ever occur on land. Because there is nowhere to run, there _is_ no escape– it’s just two ships, two sides, and the _ocean_.

And to make matters even worse—

The _Assemble_ was to windward, and the _Tanngrisnir_ was anchored in place as a result of their club-hauling– the both of them at right angles to the wind. It meant that the two ships were being pushed closer and closer together with every passing moment, and Tony could see a few pirates on deck preparing a gangway—

Not that they would need it, not with how fast the ships were coming together, as if fate _wanted_ the two crews to battle it out in the most violent manner possible.

But there was nothing that Tony could do about that, he could hardly cut through the pirates that were _already_ on the ship, military discipline falling flat in the face of the pirates’ brutality. But Tony didn’t stop, he _couldn’t_ stop—

The ships shuddered as their port sides slammed together—

And then the pirates poured onto the deck with snarls and yells that could have awoken the dead.

Tony could feel blood running down his face, hot and sticky and– he wasn’t sure whether or not some of it was his own. His cutlass slashed through cloth and skin, his boots slipped against the blood on the deck– and still Tony _fought_ , because it was all he could do. He fought with gritted teeth, he fought as his white shirt and blue coat became rapidly stained with red. The pirates felt like they couldn’t be stopped– they fought without honour, and they fought without morals. Their weapons cut through flesh like butter and they _smiled_ as they killed, laughing through blood-stained beards.

Tony caught a glimpse of Captain Odinson, his blonde hair stained with red as he raised his glistening hammer before bringing it down on top of a young sailor. But then Tony focused back on what was in front of _him._ He didn’t notice Romanoff and Rogers charging Odinson together, he didn’t even notice when the foremast began to splinter after too many hits. He had his own survival on his mind, because one wrong move would be the end.

For every pirate Tony cut down, he stepped over the bodies of four of his crew-mates—

Despite the Navy’s training, despite every variable having been on their side, the tides had turned against them. The pirates had used the shallow water and the wind to their advantage, and now, in such close proximity, the Navy had lost theirs. They were back on even footing– and somehow, someway, it felt like a _slaughter._ Only the Navy’s numbers were working in their favour now—

And Tony couldn’t afford to think about _anything_ other than his own survival.

His mind was a haze of blood, his cutlass a steel blur through the flesh of his enemies, glinting in the sun and flashing through the shadows as he spun to see a pirate coming at him from behind—

His cutlass cut through the air in an arc—

And then it slammed against another blade, the sound of the vibrations a sharp _clang_ that Tony could hear even through the din of the battle.

Tony snarled in frustration, and he was about to pull it back and slash at the pirate’s flank instead when—

He noticed the pirate’s gaze, those bright green eyes staring at him with a certain sharp lethality that faded into the same realisation Tony was feeling himself.

Pale skin, flushed with the exertion of the fight and stained red with blood– inky black hair that flowed free, decorated only by a few small braids under a dark hat. His black leather coat was lined with green, the touches of gold upon it far more tasteful than that worn by most of the _Tanngrisnir’s_ crew—

And all together it painted a picture that stole Tony’s breath, his mind echoing with just one name.

 _Loki_.

They stared at each other for a moment– a moment that felt far longer than it was, given the horrors raging around them, their blades still connected in an X above their heads.

And then, without a single word—

Loki gripped Tony’s arm and pulled him away, his rapier – thinner than Tony’s cutlass, made for quick thrusts rather than slashes – darted out and impaled the throat of one of Loki’s _own_ crew.

“Lokes?” Tony gasped, gripping Loki’s arm in turn in order to regain his balance.

“You are _not_ going to die,” Loki said, his voice as harsh as his explanation was simple. “Not today.”

Tony’s eyes hardened, and he let go to get a better grip on the hilt of his weapon. “Neither are you.”

And that—

Well, that was all it took for the tide to turn.

Tony was a sailor in His Majesty’s Royal Navy– the boatswain on HMS _Assemble._ Loki was the first mate on the pirate ship _Tanngrisnir_.

And without needing to say any more than what had already been spoken, they both turned their backs and began to fight _together_ , making their way by mutual understanding toward the starboard side of the ship.

Tony had tried to convince Rogers that they would not be able to catch the _Tanngrisnir._ And he _knew_ that Loki had tried to convince his older brother, Captain Thor Odinson that the smartest option for the pirates was to run away through the shallows.

They had both tried to avoid this fight, but… now that it was here—

Well.

The decision was _already_ made.

Tony made it every time he had neglected to tell Rogers that he knew _exactly_ where the _Tanngrisnir_ had docked, every time that he lied and said that he had been drinking and gambling on his shore days, rather than the truth. He’d made it the first morning that he’d woken in Loki’s arms, and had decided to draw Loki into a kiss instead of slitting his throat with a knife. He’d made it long before he’d fallen in love– he’d made it without thought, and perhaps without reason. But regardless, he knew that no matter the circumstance, his decision would remain the same.

The past months had been painful, keeping his love for a pirate under wraps—

He hadn’t wanted to leave the Navy, hadn’t wanted to leave his friends– just as Loki hadn’t wanted to leave his brother. They’d been forced to keep a secret, meeting only when their two ships were close enough, running the risk of being caught–and regardless of who caught them, they knew that either side would kill them both.

But it was clear that today, there would only be one winner– if there was a winner at all. There would be no more clandestine meetings in darkened ports, _this_ was the last chance to decide what happened next—

And Tony was always going to choose Loki. Every time.

They fought back to back, neither letting any man get near the one they loved. Most crewmen of either side were too surprised to fight back when they saw the pair fighting _together_ , and they made it to the starboard side of the ship in only a few minutes.

“We need to get away,” Tony said, parrying a blow with his sword—

“How?” Loki snapped. “I don’t believe everyone will be willing to pause the fight so that we may launch a longboat—”

“I dunno,” Tony said, glancing out to the shore of the island, not too far away. “I reckon we could—”

Tony’s words were cut short by an ear-splitting _crack—_

And the fighting paused as everyone looked up to see the _Assemble_ ’s foremast begin to split all the way down, the wood splintering to pieces as the beam began to _fall—_

Men shouted as they hurried out of the way—

Tony lunged forward and pushed Loki down to the deck—

And then the ship screeched and groaned as the mast fell with a crash, both it and the horizontal yards claiming lives. But Tony and Loki looked up to a sky of canvas, the forecourse blanketed over them, the lowermost yard having missed them by mere inches.

They were fine, they were _alive—_

And they were hidden from view.

They caught each other’s eyes for a moment– and then their smiles began to grow.

“I feel like a swim,” Tony said. “The island isn’t that far—”

“That island is populated,” Loki said. “We could earn passage—”

“Forge a life—”

“We could get our own ship,” Loki suggested. “Our own crew—”

“Perhaps we could become privateers,” Tony said, at the same time that Loki suggested—

“—become pirates more feared than my brother.”

“I don’t care,” Tony said, leaning closer to press his forehead to Loki’s. “Just so long as I’m with you.”

They lingered together for a moment, their smiles mixed with blood and their hands clasped tight—

And then they pushed their way out from under the canvas, and they stepped up to the gunwale.

The ocean was surging below them, but the bright blue looked _inviting–_ a fresh start, a new beginning. Whichever crew won the fight would think them killed in the battle, there would be no one searching for them. Until, perhaps, a new pirate terror became known upon the seas, or a new pair of privateers came searching for a commission. Or perhaps the world would always think them gone.

But there was one person who would know the truth of the story to tell– one pair of brown eyes that stared out of a gunport with the beginnings of a smile as side by side the pirate and the sailor leapt over the edge—

And plummeted under the waves together.


End file.
